


Other Vale

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Show Format, and a cemetary district and a ghost train but its a normal occurance, but now they have a lake, its like just a setting change au but its still strange and dangerous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today we're talking about shuffleboard, reviewing some restaurants, and there will be a reminder that our place in time and space is nearly underwater.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other Vale

Fight a man, get a scar.

Fight yourself, get regrets.

Fight an octopus, get some really cool blood blisters, and everyone will compliment you.

Welcome to Other Vale.

The ghost train, that grand illusion of sound and light we all get to see as it passes through town, has another scientifically projected appearance date. We all remember various days it has come through, making the ground rumble. Most recently, June 2012, my birthday a few years ago, and leap day of this year. It'll be back next October, with all its ghost fog and ghost wailing. I know 2017 feels far away now, but it will be here any day now, I'm sure. Maybe not. Regardless, bring the family out to Marvin St. to picnic at the newly build amphitheater and watch the ghost train be turned around, one car after the other, by our towns historic ghost turn table. It will rush back through town in the evening, and then, we can only guess, will be turned around in some other town, and sent back to us. October.

There's a scientist here in town, of course, my boyfriend Carlos. He is not a ghost. I'm still holding out that he's a super-spy, but I can tell you with certainty, folks, that he would not be cooler as a ghost. We've gone through that, pretty accurately I think, through the medium of holograms. It's the modern era, there's lots of ways to be partially in multiple places.

Anyways, speaking of Carlos, he beat me again at invisible shuffleboard. He always tries to teach me to feel and hear the weight of the puck and the sand, but I guess it'll just be one of our things, me paying for lunch every time. I don't mind it, because it's a lot of fun!

We should go there more often. But it's near the lake, so it's actually kind of far.

Speaking of, the lake is still set to flood, definitely, some time in the future. We all know it will happen, but there is nothing we can do except move away. We can leave our families and move to, maybe Escherwood? I think that might be far enough up the hill. I don't know. It's just not convenient to uproot yourself from your community, just because it cannot sustain us as humans for the long-term. It would be nice if we could buy flood insurance, but that's just not practical for the insurance companies, I suppose. I'll be here to the end, dear listeners, and I'll be here to report on the flood as it happens, I promise you that. Maaaybe I'll send an intern to get most of the story, though.

But for now, the cursed cemetery on the lake's bed has let us be safe and dry. It's days like today I am grateful for the hundreds of people we ceremoniously drown in the lake each May. I am also grateful that our cemetery district, the one between the middle school and Marvin St. seems to be subsisting on the day to day, unplanned deaths. It would be a hassle to arrange two sacrifices.

Just a reminder that every Sunday morning, historic Marvin street has a farmers market. Our very own farmer, John Peters, is down there every week selling his famous imaginary corn, and peach pits. Head on down next Sunday. While you're there, you can stop by the Marvin cafe for a burger and a flapjack stack, or the rock store for some crystals and kale chips, or the charred remains of Sammy's Sliceria for some nostalgia.

Speaking of charred remains, I think we need to talk about The Tree House. The Tree House, as you know, is a sports bar and grill located on the second story of the purple building on Marvin street, the one with the taqueria and the chiropractor. We all know that it burnt down the first of the year in 2012, and that it had the best hot wings in town. 

We all remember the agony of seeing each summer that it was promising this year would be the year it would be back in time for the annual bear-baiting each July 4th weekend, and knowing by two weeks into June that it probably would not be open in time. We all remember worrying that it would never open and we would never get to eat those chicken wings again.

Well we were right. In a way. They opened this spring and they don't even have chicken wings anymore. How dare they even call themselves The Tree House now, they are a dim echo of what they once were.

Ugh.

Anyways, I miss all the places that burnt down, especially Sammy's Sliceria, who perhaps knew to just stay closed down and not try to reinvent itself. If you're in the mood for pizza, though, I heartily recommend Big Rico's, not only because it has tasty pizza, but because it's the law. Located in the toast of our city, the outdoor mall, Big Rico's is nestled right between Dark Pinkberry, Dark Starbucks, and Dark ATT, so if you're in the mood for desert, coffee, or a broad wireless network that won't let you down, after your delicious pizza, you could browse the mall. Just be sure to avoid the Nordstrom's, because... Well, hopefully you remember why... 

Listeners, I'd like to talk to you about the mirror dimension. We need to have a conversation about the dancing figures in the mirrors of the Jarmusch Hotel, that night club on Marvin Street. It says here that they are black, and slimy, like a living oil slick. They are sluggish, waving their arms and moving their feet. Their limbs are tapered. They do not copy the action of the patrons of the bar, like things in mirrors usually do. What are they trying to convey to us?

Probably that they need a ride home.

[It's time... for the weather.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJtjwpDy6mY)

Well, that sounds like a nice weekend listeners. It's pretty hot here right now, and we've had a pretty cool summer if you look at the climate data. Of course, math is rarely applicable to organic life, and I think we're all ready for the cool, leaf laden winds of fall. But I don't mind the heat so much, I really don't. It's the cold that gets me.

An update on Guilded Mountain, which is still in shambles and isn't even in this dimension anymore. It has stopped begging us for help and is turning into itself for support. It's been slow, however, with the, with all the stuff that's happened. They were so snobbish though! I know no one deserves all of that, but... Ugh! I don't know what to think of them now. 

Isn't it strange? There's so many people, and each one of them is a person. Isn't that strange? Sometimes I have trouble even believing there can be one person, let alone billions. It's remarkable that we all have memories. That objects can help us remember things? Things completely unrelated to what the objects appear as? I mean, I have a stuffed monkey on my dresser that my uncle gave me when I was a kid, and when I look at it, I remember my friends from elementary school. We would laugh, wander around, cartoons actually made sense back then. Anyone who looks at the monkey just sees a ball of faux fur and vel-crow. If I wasn't here, if they weren't here, if my uncle wasn't here, then that monkey would be just a monkey. Or, no, perhaps it would be someone else's memory, having nothing to do with cartoons or monkeys. What a strange tendency we have, collecting souvenirs and imbuing them with any memory we happen to make in their presence. 

Can a monkey survive the end of the world? 

It depends on the resilience of the mind. Will we remember ourselves when Earth is gone, or when our town is flooded, when our community is wiped away by freshwater. Will we remember Earth when we wash up on Mars, or some other place?

Will we look at Earth and remember something else? 

For now, we still have our planet, we still have our town. We'll always have our town, as long as we are together. That's what the prophesy says, anyway.

Goodnight, listeners, goodnight.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my night vale sona , its called jarmusch but thats a weird name so I just called it other vale. I hghly encourage a wide gaze at your own backyard, because making this was really fun. I hope you enjoyed it. if you live n jarmusch or a surrounding area then im sorry.


End file.
